


Cocaine Tongue

by tielan



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-24
Updated: 2010-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:45:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley likes being dominant. That doesn't mean that Faith can't control him in her own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cocaine Tongue

He hadn’t bothered with a gag, so her moan was harsh in the stillness of the room as he slid his finger lightly between her spread thighs. His finger just touched the edge of her clit, the aroused nub of it pulsing against his tip.

“Do you like that?” The question hung suspended in the sweat-laden air between them.

“What’s to like? You haven’t done anything.”

“Not yet,” he corrected her. “You tied me down to inflict pain on me once, Faith,” he said, lifting his hands so his fingers brushed over her nipples, fingering the delicate texture of them, parchment fine. “I think it only right that I respond in kind...”

She wriggled a little, restless and impatient. Her teeth pressed down on her lower lip, ivory against the sultry red of her lipstick, as she fought the tease. Wesley bent forward and tugged at her upper lip, then pulled back a second before her teeth snapped lightly at his mouth.

“Temper,” he said, keeping his voice coolly prim, although his blood raced and his dick ached. “Learn patience, Faith.”

She snorted at that. “I could just take you now, Wes. Take you down, fuck you, be outta here before you managed to get your breath back.”

“Yet you haven’t,” he said as he slid his hands down to her thighs. “Which suggests that you want this, Faith.”

“Maybe I do,” she said. “But that’s not the question, is it? It’s what you want, isn’t it, Wes?” Her voice dropped to a whisper that vibrated in his ears, in his balls. “So, let’s aim for the heart and ask what dirty little fantasy do you wanna indulge?”

She undulated in the bed, sliding one hand down her belly and between her thighs, stroking herself with practised ease. “Tie me down and beat me? Turn me over on my hands and knees and fuck me from behind? Force me onto my knees and fill my mouth with your cock until I choke?”

He watched her writhe among the sheets, his mouth dry.

It didn’t escape his notice that all the scenarios she’d picked had a distinct theme of domination.

It didn’t escape his notice that he was sporting a rock-hard erection from her words.

It didn’t escape her notice either, because her eyes lingered at his groin, then rose to his face, and the beautiful features gleamed with triumph.

Fine. If a man couldn’t match her, he’d be best off meeting her where he had the best advantage.

“Very well. We’ll start with the basics, shall we?” His heart was thundering in his ribcage as he undressed, careful and precise, setting his shirt neatly over the chair, his jeans neatly folded. Then he lay down on the bed. “Down, girl.”

He smirked at her, and she looked up at him, something beautiful and frightening written in her expression. But Faith was a language Wesley had never studied, and the knowledge inscribed in her features was gone before he could translate it.

Then she went down on him.

He’d expected something passionate, brutal, fierce and ferocious, something typically Faith.

Instead...

Her lips brushed the tip, rolled lightly over the head, pushing down the foreskin, then drawing it up with her teeth. His fingers clenched in the sheets, and he expelled his breath with bitter force.

Wes was dying.

She licked him delicately, tasting his semen like sorbet on the tongue. And her eyes watched him through thick dark lashes, gleaming wickedly as he moaned and writhed beneath her ministrations.

Her mouth touched his once, dotting a trail of kisses across his belly, over his chest and up his throat, before parting her lips over his. His hand was full of her hair, gripping hard as he yanked her to him, without delicacy. And the strange flavour on her lips was him, and Wesley felt both sick and turned on by the taste, before she ran her finger over his lower lip and murmured, “Ready for the finale, Wesley?”

He screamed with the force of her torment - the game that had gotten so twisted along the way. The payback had been his, but she held the reins in her hands and his cock between her lips. Faith controlled him as delicately as a puppeteer controls a puppet with a twitch of the fingers.

And Wesley danced to her tune.

 


End file.
